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Clover

by Richard Vince

You have returned like the spectre of
A long lost dream: a memory of
Uncertain accuracy; a rumour of
Someone I met once, but largely knew
Through the recollections of another.

I am separated from that time by
Those long, hard years between
Late teens and mid twenties.
They form a division that is
Not quite transparent, distorting
The disjointed images in my mindÂ’s eye.

You form a stark reminder of how much
My memory remembers, and how much
It discards that I thought it would keep.
I was always sure that I would
Recognise you if I saw you again, but
Now I realise I was probably wrong.

All her memories of you were of
Childhood; stories of a young girl
Left years behind; a fragile seedling
From which a confident woman grew.
The rolling fields and rambling trees
I visualised as your playground are now
Frostbitten and bare, left in the frozen
Stratosphere of ancient friendship.

She is a mere memory for me now.
It was a beautiful period of my life,
Preserved in my memory as
A half forgotten but thoroughly enjoyed
Film whose essence can still
Warm my heart on these cold nights.

You are a favourite scene: a highlight
In this fond sequence of recollections
That I almost fear to revisit lest I am
Disappointed. Your trail is blazed across
The sky, fuelled by the unfettered joy
Harvested from those childhood fields.

11/26/2007

Posted on 12/02/2007
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 12/06/07 at 01:58 PM

A melancholy beauty, this.

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